We’re basically in a holding pattern this summer. We’re not as restricted as we were for nearly three long months, but we’re also not back in “real life.” Everything is different … and weird.
You will have a special name for it now, as you read this. Was the “before” called Pre-Corona, maybe? BC and AC, for Before Corona and After Corona. Maybe just “pre-2020” or “pre-pandemic.” But when it started, we didn’t know our whole world would change. It was just … early March, 2020.
Our kids understood that we all had to “stay the blazes home”. They understood that only Dad went to the store or picked up take-out. They understood that if someone stopped by our house, we stood on the porch and talked to them from a safe distance. Now, everything is a bit wishy-washy.
Two weeks from now, we’ll be lined up outside the school. When it’s our kids’ turns to go inside, I know they’ll skip gaily through the propped-up door, swinging a gift bag for their teacher and thrilled to be inside their school again. I’ll move to the designated exit door to wait for them, and I’ll try to stop crying before they come out. I’ll try to stop myself from agonizing over the next time we’ll be back and what school will look like at that point.
Five and a half months. That’s how long our kids will be out of school, assuming things re-start in September — and a September start is the one true, beautiful thing I refuse to stop believing in, so don’t burst my bubble.